


To Help Me See Myself Clearer

by Doodsxd



Series: I'll Be Good [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bad Pick-Up Lines, Dom Neville Longbottom, Dom/sub Play, Draco Malfoy & Pansy Parkinson Friendship, Fluff, Gay Draco Malfoy, Good Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter is a Good Friend, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Humor, Idiots in Love, M/M, Matchmaker Pansy Parkinson, Minor Character Death, POV Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson is a Good Friend, Post-War, Rebuilding, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Redemption, Romance, Self-Esteem Issues, Spanking, Sub Draco Malfoy, Thestrals (Harry Potter), Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:27:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28433880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doodsxd/pseuds/Doodsxd
Summary: He did not deserve it, he knew, holed up on his chair while Neville gave the Winzegamot his two cents on Draco’s trial right before Potter spoke. That, more than everything, sealed the deal, and he was on probation instead of getting his soul sucked away by some lost dementor in Azkaban.But that’s the thing about deserving, isn’t it?Because it wasn’t for him to decide.
Relationships: Neville Longbottom/Draco Malfoy
Series: I'll Be Good [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2082621
Comments: 8
Kudos: 70





	To Help Me See Myself Clearer

**To Help Me See Myself Clearer**

He did not deserve it, he knew, holed up on his chair while Neville gave the Winzegamot his two cents on Draco’s trial right before Potter spoke. That, more than everything, sealed the deal, and he was on probation instead of getting his soul sucked away by some lost dementor in Azkaban. 

But that’s the thing about deserving, isn’t it?

Because it wasn’t for him to decide. 

_________________________________________________________________________

Before anyone asked, he turned Lucius’, Bellatrix’s, the Lestranges’, and every other account he had a hold on, and shared reparations. Lucius taught him about handling finances. 

He found his mother hanging by her neck in the dining room on a Tuesday. 

He donated the Manor to be taken down and in its ruins to have a mental hospital raised on the following Thursday. 

Potter offered him to stay at Grimmauld’s Place . 

“It was your family’s,” He said, a hand on Draco’s shoulder at Narcisa’s funeral. “Just… don’t go into Sirius’ room, okay?” 

But Draco shook his head. He had inherited more than his fair share, and could not get rid of everything, even for war reparations - some buildings would only accept someone of Black blood inside, others demanded, by magical contract, that he had to have descendants before he could transfer the property, and then there were Severus’ things and savings, which were a whole new can of worms. It was all very complex, but the Ministry did not care about a couple of houses and a cottage. He suspected someone spoke for him on that account, but he had no idea why. 

It did not matter. He did not deserve it, but he hid away in Snape's cottage by the sea for months, until it was time. 

He was not ready. But it was time. 

______________________________________________________________________________

Hogwarts, after the rebuilding, was just as beautiful as ever. The building’s magic hummed happily throughout the tall trees, the soft, crisp breeze sweeping up the leaves. Birds were more frequent on the grounds now, probably sensing the energy going around. Even the colours were  _ weird _ to his eyes: the sky too bright, the clouds too white, the plants too green. 

He stood outside, unable to walk in. Despite being on the terms of his parole - and non-negotiable, as per McGonagall’s personal request - Draco still felt wrong. Everything around him was  _ happy _ \- the recently trimmed grass, the golden rays of sunshine, the blue sky. He felt like his mere presence was tainting sacred ground. Tainting this lively joy. 

To make matters worse, he was completely alone. None of his classmates,  _ none _ of them, came back. The Slytherin house dimmed down by half, and only the youngest, up to the fourth year, came back. 

Someone put a hand on his shoulder, startling him for a moment, just before he recognized the scent. A scent he very well connected with the smell of burning things. 

“Weird, isn’t it?” Potter spoke, walking to stand beside him. 

When Draco said nothing, he continued. 

“Thestrals came to live on the grounds right after the Battle.” He explained, voice optimistically neutral. “Luna is looking it up. Apparently, there is some ancient magic tied to them.”

“I know.” Draco answered. 

Potter hummed. “I know you don’t want to be here. But I’m glad you are.”

Draco hummed, his eyes following a flock of birds that flew over the Gryffindor tower. Silence reigned for a bit. 

“Right.” Potter insisted with a smile. “Now. Ready to go on?” He motioned to the doors of the castle. 

Draco took a deep breath. “Not really.”

“Me neither.” He admitted. “Together?” 

His warmth at Draco’s side felt strangely reassuring. This was how they were supposed to be from the beginning: friends, complementaries. Too bad that life got in the way. 

“Alright.” He agreed.

They brought a lot of attention on themselves that day, just by walking together to the Main Hall - and while McGonagall wasn’t his favorite teacher by far, the smile he saw on her face in response to that scene made him feel a little warm inside. A little like he was worth it.

He would never know why she demanded that he went back to the school. He supposed the year would teach him that, too. 

_____________________________________________________________________

The number of hexes and jinxes thrown his way went up the longer Potter didn’t talk to him. Draco didn’t want to be a charity case, but whenever Potter ditched his friends and bully him into a game of snap or something were the few moments he felt truly safe around the castle. 

McGonagall threatened to expel a few people in his name, but he quickly dissuaded her from that idea. 

“Despite whatever the public told you, mister Malfoy, you do not deserve this.” He didn’t miss the way her hands shook, making her teacup clatter. 

He didn’t answer her. She was wrong, but he didn’t have the heart to lose her support yet. Not just yet. Not when she was one of the last people alive who cared anything for him, and especially not when she liked her tea with precisely two dashes of warm milk and one spoonful of sugar 

Just like his mother. 

At least when serving tea, he could do right by heart by someone, without wondering if what he was doing was right or if it was just the pureblood way of doing it. 

_______________________________________________________________________________

That night he couldn’t control himself. 

It was about midnight when he gave up on sleep.

He wrapped himself up on his robe, put on slippers and walked out of the dungeons. He thought of going to the kitchens, but his feet drove him somewhere else - somewhere he was quite familiar with. 

Opening that door was almost like being transported in time. The room was plunged in darkness, but he didn’t need to see anything. He knew every corner, every nook, by heart. 

Draco touched the whips and paddles on the table with reverence. Yes, they had hurt his flesh, but they had also held him together in ways he could never have predicted. They were the reason he was still standing, instead of… of following his mother’s footsteps. 

He heard a noise to his left and raised his wand immediately, adrenaline kicking in quickly. 

From the darkness, a voice - a voice he knew all too well - spoke to him.

“On your knees.” 

The shiver that overtook his body got him down as a mere reaction. He felt like vomiting, like crying: he felt like  _ home _ . 

He felt like  _ home _ . 

A hand brushed his hair, the back of his neck, and it fell forward on its own accord. Draco licked his dry lips and tried to contain his tears, even though they were trying with all their might to come out. 

“You have been very bad, Draco.” Neville told him softly. “Very good, making friends and allowing McGonagall to intervene for you. But very bad, not eating properly and letting other students hex you.” 

He shut his eyes hard. The humidity building up in his eyes fell to the ground, staining it. Two wet spots, right in front of his knees. “I’m sorry, sir.” 

“How many?” He asked, making his way around Draco. 

His voice clogged. “I don’t know.” 

“How many until you can forgive yourself?” Neville asked, as tender as Draco ever heard him. “How many until you stop blaming yourself?” 

“I don’t  _ know _ .” He didn’t want to cry, he didn’t want to-

“How many until you stop letting other people damage what’s  _ mine _ ?”  _ Fuck _ , that made his dick warm all at once. “How many until you understand that what they’re doing is  _ my _ job, and they’re not even doing it  _ properly _ , so you  _ can’t allow it _ ?” He got more forceful with each word. 

But that wasn’t the script. Even before, that wasn’t part of the fantasy, or the deal. 

And yet, everything about this situation was different. Draco didn’t come here for this, and he hadn’t been the one to call for Neville - it just happened. They were probably there for the same reason, reminiscing on a distant past. 

But Neville was the one who ordered him on his knees, and Draco had accepted the call. It wasn’t like he wanted to say no. Still, the possessiveness… something was going on. Not that he was against it, but it pulled him from the headspace from before, making him curious instead. 

“However many you think, sir.” He straightened his back but kept his head bowed. If Neville was going to change the script, then he was going to answer in kind. 

Draco couldn’t see his face, but he could wager it surprised Neville. At least he’d like to think that it did. 

He took his time before humming. 

“Bend over the bed.” 

“Sir?” He asked without raising his eyes, touching his robe to gauge what Neville wanted from that. 

“Just the robe.” He answered. “You decide if you want to lower your pants or not.” 

Draco nodded and stood up, taking position. He took off his robes, leaving them on the bed, and did lower his pants a little - not enough to let his balls naked to the night air, but enough that he would feel whatever Neville chose touch his bare skin, which was essential to him. 

Neville said nothing. He just selected a paddle and walked back to Draco. 

“I’ll do fifteen. You’ll count them, and with each of them I want you to think about what you would have done if those people were hexing someone else. Anyone. Think an eleven-year-old Slytherin who everybody assumes is bad just because of his house. Think of your mother, the woman you knew before the war.” 

He swallowed hard and shut his eyes. 

And so it begun. 

The first hit made him jump a little, but Neville didn’t admonish him for that, probably aware that both of them lost the routine for this. 

The second hurt more, but was easier. 

Draco counted, and with each one he saw Colin Creevey and his brother Dennis, he saw himself as a child who people assumed to be a certain way because of his surname, his mother’s kind eyes and warm embrace every time he came crying to her. 

Too soon they had done fifteen. Neville pulled Draco’s pants up and helped him onto the bed, holding him close. Draco was shivering, so he brought himself closer to the other boy, who held him uncharacteristically firmly. 

“What were you doing here?” 

“Same as you, I’d wager.” Neville answered, finding his eyes. “Couldn’t sleep. Missed this.” 

Draco hummed. “It was a worthy goodbye. We never got one the first time.” 

The Gryffindor frowned. “Are you with another bloke or something?” 

Draco shook his head. “It’s not about that.”

“Is it Zabini?” 

“Longbottom…”

“I just saw your naked arse, I think you should call me by my given name.” 

Draco shut his eyes and sighed. “This will not work.” 

“Of course it’s not, with you putting blocks on all the paths!” 

“You don’t understand…” Draco hated it, to feel this nervous, this helpless. He desperately craved his mother’s sage advice. 

“I really don’t.” Neville’s voice softened, his hold relaxed. They sometimes forgot how sensitive the post-scene was. 

He took a deep breath, burying his face on Neville’s chest and breathing him in one last time before speaking again. 

“Something like this... you and me. No matter how reformed I am, how much good I have done, I will always be the Death Eater who got away with what he shouldn’t.”

“I don’t care.” Neville replied automatically. 

It tore a sad smile from Draco. “I know you don’t. But I do. Whatever suffering they may bring me, I’d rather they just bring it  _ to me _ , not to other people.”

“You let Nott, Zabini and Parkinson hang around you.” The stubborn Gryffindor insisted. 

“And, as you can see, they are not around anymore.”

“And Harry?”

“I doubt anything could touch him or his friends at this point. Honestly, Potter is a pest. It’s impossible to get rid of him.”

Neville rubbed his forehead. “So you’re just going to decide to be a self-abnegated hero and punish yourself in order to protect me from your haters? That’s absurd.” 

He shrugged. “It’s the least I could do after everything you’ve done for me.” 

“Well, I don’t want protection.” He insisted. “In case you didn’t notice, killing Nagini pretty much proves it.” 

“What about your grandmother?” Draco pointed out, not holding back from pressing where it hurt. “What about what the papers will do to your parents’ names? Because they  _ will _ bring your parents up and the relation between what happened to them and my  _ aunt _ , who lived  _ in my house with me _ all this time. It’s going to be a bloodbath, Neville, and I can’t let that happen.”

“My gran doesn’t read the prophet, the Quibbler is not going to print something like that about you or me. I’ll just warn her and that’s it.” 

“She’ll disinherit you.”

“If she uses money to blackmail me into doing her bidding, I don’t want that money.” 

Draco sighed tiredly. “Do you have an answer to everything?” 

Neville pouted - adorably, if Draco could say. “No. But we won a war. Now we should get whatever we want.” 

“First and foremost,  _ you _ won the war. I  _ lost _ .”

“You spied for us.”

“Most people still doubt that, and they’ll never stop punishing me and whoever is with me, for it. Besides, of all the things you could choose to want, you chose me?” He arched one eyebrow. “What about Abbot? Or Lovegood?” 

“They are not who I want.” 

“Well.” Draco shook his head, sitting up. He started dressing and fastening his robes, preparing to leave. “This is not happening, so you might as well choose one of them.” 

“What I want is not up to you to decide.” Draco stopped. Neville had that glint in his eyes, that glint that spoke of determination and swinging swords. 

“Maybe not.” He conceded. “But, in this case, it  _ is _ up to me whether you get it.” He raised a hand to stop him from replying. “I trusted you before. Now it’s time for you to trust me. I’m doing what’s best for the both of us.” 

“I know you  _ think _ this is the best for us. I know you’re not doing this to hurt me, I know that you believe the bullshit that just came through your mouth.” Neville walked to Draco, his hand cupping the back of his head, fingers threading through blond strands of hair possessively, gently. “But you’re wrong. And I’ll prove it.” 

“I can’t stop you.” Draco admitted. “But you will regret it. I just hope you won’t hate me too much when it happens.” 

“I swear I’m going to prove you wrong.” 

“Please,  _ don’t _ .” Draco lowered his head, eyes closed firmly. “Don’t promise what you can’t keep.” He licked his lips. “It’s on the rules, remember?” 

Neville smiled, and by Merlin, it was the brightest thing Draco had ever seen. 

“As a wise man once told me,” He said. “Fuck the rules.” 

_______________________________________________________________________

He had been reading silently in the Slytherin common room when the door opened and half of his seventh-year friends, plus a lot of the sixth and fifth years from Slytherin, came bursting inside. 

Pansy was the first on the line and she immediately plonked herself on his lap, pecking him on the lips. 

“Hello, darling. I heard you were lonely, all alone here fulfilling the terms of your parole.” Her hand slid on his cheek. “So we thought we’d come here to help.”

He couldn’t help but smile. “You bint. Theodore, come control your woman.” 

Theo and Blaise, who were smiling at him, came forward to give him a half-hug. 

“I gave up on that in fifth year, man, you know that.” Theo threw himself on the couch. 

“So,” Blaise wiggled his eyebrows. “We heard that now you’re tight as nails with the Golden Trio.” 

“Oh, poor dear!” Pansy dramatized, mocking him. “Did you miss us that much, darling?” 

“Honestly, I can’t remember why I’m friends with you.” He said, but his hand was caressing her short bob. Merlin and Morgana both, he missed her antics. 

“ _ Best friends _ .” She corrected him, one long black claw up in the air. “And it’s because I’m the best, darling. Now, tell us,” Her smile was evil. “What did we miss?” 

He sighed. “Well…” 

____________________________________________________________________________

He didn’t have to walk alone anymore, but if the thought of Potter fucking off because of Slytherins ever crossed his mind, they promptly vanished after the first time Pansy made a snarky comment towards Potter, who answered in kind, surprising her. Draco held his breath until they both laughed loudly, drawing the attention of everyone in the courtyard. 

“Oh, darling, I see what you saw in him.” Pansy told him, wiping her eyes with her fingers, lest her mascara ran. “He’s feisty.” 

“And straight as an arrow.” He informed her, eyes going back to his book. 

“Oh.” She frowned. “But you told me that your little affair was a Gryffindor. I could swear it was Potter.”

“Wait, he didn’t tell you who it is either?” Potter leaned in, curious. 

“I’m surprised you even know what I’m talking about.” 

“Can we  _ please _ stop talking about my love life?” Draco grunted. 

“Oh, but it’s  _ so much fun _ to talk about your little crush.” 

“Not a crush.” 

“Have they seen you naked? Because if they haven't, it’s a crush.”

“Matter of fact, he has.” Fuck. Fucking hell, the bloody bint annoyed him into saying things he didn’t want to. 

Draco hid his face on his hands while Pansy gasped dramatically. 

“So you had sex? You and a Gryffindor, during the war?” Her voice grew more excited by the word. “That’s so…  _ forbidden _ . And  _ hot _ .” 

“No, no sex. There wasn’t any sex.” 

“Why else would he see you naked, then?” She frowned. “I mean, if he was a Slytherin you would have shared a bathroom, but a Gryffindor…”

“It’s… complicated.” He flushed. 

“Okay, that sounds less hot, and more romantic.” Pansy’s gears were warming up, he could just  _ see  _ it. “Did you know, Potter, that Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor were lovers?”

“Oh, really?” Why didn’t he sound surprised at all?

“Yes.” She smirked. “Most wizards refuse to speak about it, and nobody has dared put it in writing, but it’s common knowledge ever since their letters were found. They had a sex dungeon in the castle and everything.” 

“What, the Room of Requirement?” 

“No.” Draco shook his head. 

“And how would you know?” Pansy challenged. 

“How do you  _ think _ ?” He rolled his eyes. “I’ve been there.” 

“Oh my  _ god _ . How did you find it?” 

Draco bit his lip. “Well… The Room of Requirement showed me.” 

Potter laughed. “You asked for a sex dungeon?” 

“No!” He flushed. “I just…” 

Potter laughed at how red he got. “Well, if you’re not willing to engage with your  _ crush _ anymore… it just so happens that Charlie Weasley is gay.” Potter explained. “And single. And in England.” 

He was ashamed to admit it took him a moment to understand what he was implying _. “Oh _ .” 

“ _ Oh _ ?” Pansy frowned. “Just  _ oh _ ?” 

“I’m straight and even  _ I  _ would be excited for a date with Charlie.” Potter complemented her thoughts. “He’s a fun guy and fit as hell.” 

“I am not staying here for this.” Draco stood up, straightening his robes. “I’m going to head back to Slytherin.” With a quick look to Pansy, he waved a hand.

Walking away, though, he was too lost in his thoughts, bumping into no one but Longbottom. Draco paused, unsure of what to do. Should he try to be polite? Should he just ignore him and go through? 

“H-hey.” Neville decided for both of them. “How is it going?” 

“Fine, thank you.” He answered stiffly. “You?” 

“Good, I’m good.” An uncertain beat passed. “Look, I was just going to-”

“Boys, I don’t have all day.” A new teacher, trying to pass through, caught their attention harshly. “In or out, please. The hallway is no place to hold a conversation.” 

“Excuse me.” Draco took it as his cue to brush through Neville and leave. 

He had to leave, because whatever Neville had to talk about, he couldn’t take it. He had to leave, because just his smell, or the freckles on top of his nose, made Draco want to fall to his knees and cry. 

He had to leave, because he couldn’t afford to break. Not when he worked so hard to stay in one piece. 

_________________________________________________________________________

Draco woke up a few hours after falling asleep, the wards around his bed ringing in his ears about an intruder - not precisely a threat, but someone who hadn’t been invited. He sat up to the figure slipping into bed with him, occupying the empty side of it. 

“Longbottom?” His mind still fuzzy from sleep, Draco struggled to think. 

“Shh, yeah, it’s me.” He said, cuddling up to him. “Go back to sleep, it’s okay.”

“What are you doing here?” He asked, allowing the closeness. Like he could ever say no to Longbottom. 

“You were having a nightmare.” He offered as an explanation. “Your magic called out to me.” 

“It… did?” He frowned, dread curling inside of him. 

“Hey, none of that.” The Gryffindor pulled Draco to him. “Let’s just sleep, okay? We’ll talk in the morning.”

He blinked and nodded, his body falling asleep on its own accord, taking it all like it had been but a dream. 

_________________________________________________________________________________

He slipped out as quietly as he could as to not wake up Neville. He wasn’t about to feed into the other boy’s hopes by accepting to once again talk about their perceived “relationship”. 

Draco had been outside, just laying beside the lake, sort of to see if that energy, if the sunshine and the wind, could remove the stains from his soul. Draco felt soiled, but he knew. There was no magic to cleanse him, not at this point. Not after something so vile had left its mark on him. 

A shade turned up in front of his closed eyes. Draco opened them, facing a thestral foal, who was sniffing his legs. 

He decided not to move, just looking to the side. The foal’s mother was watching, but didn’t seem worried, sitting down to enjoy the sunshine. 

He diverted his attention back to the foal, whose nose came up to his groin, and then his belly - just to latch to his hair. 

“Hey, hey,” He moved on his elbows and sat up, hand on the animal’s face, gently redirecting it. “Easy there. It’s hard to get this hair to look like this, you know? Not everyone can just wake up looking all pretty like you.” 

The animal snorted, making him feel like maybe it understood him. It was a magical animal, after all, able to attune to him and understand his needs. 

“Yeah, yeah, go on laughing at me.” He caressed the black, leathery snout. “Easy for you to mock.” 

He sighed, mind wandering as the foal lowered itself beside Draco, just sort of… hanging out. He would probably be a little worried if it wasn’t Hogwarts. Hogwarts always had a way of making these things seem completely normal and expected. 

A younger thestral - not really a foal anymore, but not an adult yet - came closer too, laying on his side, wings flapped up, right head right beside Draco’s feet. Another one came, flaking his other side; finally, the mother sat behind Draco. He could feel the top of his head touching the animal’s belly and couldn’t muster the courage to lift himself up. 

His mind wondered why people associated light colours with good, and black colours with evil. Those animals were pure, no matter that only those who had seen death could see them. And his hair was probably a stark contrast with the mother’s hide. Despite their coloration, he was the one who was irrevocably contaminated. 

“They seem to like you.” He heard a voice, opening his eyes, although he didn’t need to . 

“Lovegood.” Draco sat up, helped by the animal behind him when his arm failed him. “Hello.” 

“She seems to know that you are missing a mother.” Her smile, as always, was something from another world, like the girl belonged to a parallel universe from where all the wonderful magical creatures came. Potter was beside her, hand on the neck of the biggest thestral of the group - a male, from what Draco could infer. 

He turned around, looking at the thestral. “Is that what they do? Look up orphans to annoy?” He said, no heat to it. 

A cold wet snout touched his ear, making him wince and the two other people around laugh. 

“We noticed that when we went into the forest.” Potter explained, plopping himself beside the group as the male thestral lowered himself beside his mate. “Seems that the more orphans there are around, the closer the thestrals wander to the castle.” 

Draco hummed. “So every magical cub is your cub, huh?” He asked, hand moving once again on the female thestral’s face. 

She moved her large head forward, nose tipped down, as if offering her forehead. Draco checked with Luna first, feeling reassured when she nodded in encouragement. 

He lowered his head to the animal’s, letting his forehead touch hers.

_ I am so sorry I left you, Draco _ . A voice, a voice he knew better than he knew his own bones, told him.  _ I love you, darling. Be strong _ . 

He put his head back with a gasp, eyes wet, searching for the people around him, who didn’t seem surprised at all. 

“What the…?” 

“I am sure you have read about how thestrals guard the veil between the living and the dead. How they can walk the bridge.” Lovegood sat down, a smile to her lips as she caressed the foal’s back. “And I am sure you always thought it was a metaphor. I did, too.” 

“I heard my mother first.” Potter told him. “I think they can connect through the identified gender, because  _ that  _ one,” he pointed at the mother, “came to me first, and also to Luna, and she always brings up the mothers.” 

Draco nodded dumbly, hand going through the scales. “So that one…?” 

“I had to hunt him down.” He admitted with a sad smile. “I was so anxious. Took me some time to get his trust, and even more time for anything to come of it.” 

“Who did you hear?” The Slytherin asked, his entire chest encased into a painful knot. 

“Pettigrew.” He sighed. “I almost fled. I mean, all that work and I had to hear  _ that _ fucker’s voice?”

“We concluded that urgent messages take precedence.” The girl informed him. “We have no control of what comes through. All we can do is accept to receive the message.” 

He nodded, letting his body settle.  _ I love you too _ a song underneath every single one of his thoughts. 

“How is Narcissa?” Potter asked him, a knowing smile on his face. 

Draco bit his lip, a smile blooming on his own, even as his eyes grew wetter and wetter. “She’s good.” He said, the reality of it building inside his being. 

It was not that she didn’t love him enough. He had known it, but  _ feeling _ it like this was a whole other sensation. Her love for him just wasn’t enough to keep her going, but that was okay. He could forgive her if she could forgive him for not being enough, for not being there when she needed him, for making all the wrong choices; enough that her love for him transcended through death’s veil. 

“She’s really good.” 

______________________________________________________________________

Draco had been walking alongside Pansy to Potions when someone caught up with them. 

“Hello.” Neville said, a big goofy smile plastered on his face. 

“Did you need something, Longbottom?” Draco put on his iciest front, not missing how Pansy remained silent, observing the exchange. 

“Oh, I’m just confused about something.” He shrugged. “Maybe you can help me out.” 

He arched one disbelieving eyebrow, aware of how much like his father he looked when he did so. Or maybe he was channeling his inner Snape - he was not sure. He just wanted to look distant and cold. That was the  _ point _ . “Go on.” 

“I mean, I thought happiness was spelled with an  _ H _ .” 

Draco’s eyes narrowed, and he exchanged a confused look with Pansy. “It… it is.” 

“Well, but what if mine starts with  _ U _ ?” 

It took him entirely too long to understand. When realization dawned on him, Pansy was already cackling loudly like the bint she was. 

“Oh Merlin, that was so awful it was  _ good _ .” She covered her mouth with her hands. 

He turned from her to Longbottom, who had been expecting something. “What is the meaning of this?” He was acutely aware of the people now looking their way, wondering just what the hell Neville had to speak to a former Death Eater for. 

“It’s a pickup line.” Neville shrugged, a hand messing up his hair. 

“It’s the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard.” 

“Well, I can do better.” He smoothly propped himself on the wall next to them, and  _ Merlin _ if he didn’t look every ounce of the do-gooder, adorable idiot that Draco fell in love with. “Are you a piece of art?” 

Draco tried scowling. “Stop this, Longbottom.” 

“Shame, ‘cause I’d like to nail you up against a wall.”

Pansy absolutely  _ screamed _ before falling off laughing. 

“Traitor.” He cursed between his teeth. 

“This is too good!” She wiped her eyes. “What more do you have?” 

“Oh, I got plenty more.” Longbottom’s smile doubled in size, shark-like. “I mean,” He turned to Draco once more. “Did you sit on a pile of sugar? Cause you got a  _ sweet ass _ .” 

Draco groaned - it was so bad, he almost felt like kissing the idiot just to make him shut the fuck up. 

Instead, he turned his back on both imbeciles and walked away, muttering about curses and hexes while hearing Pansy’s raucous laughter echo through the school hallways, to the point where a teacher stopped by to ask her if she was alright. 

Damn him. 

_____________________________________________________________________

“I need your help.” He sat in front of Potter during breakfast on the Gryffindor table.  _ That’s _ how desperate he was. 

Potter’s spoonful of porridge stopped midway to his mouth. “Huh?” 

“Don’t pretend you don’t know.” His expression turned sour. “ _ Longbottom _ .” 

His expression turned even more confused. 

Draco rolled his eyes. “Ugh. Gryffindors.” He got even closer to whisper to him. “He’s been…  _ hitting _ on me.” He tried to convey the gravity of the situation with a look .” _ Publicly.”  _

Mirth brewed within Potter’s green eyes, bringing dread to Draco’s heart. “Is he the…?”

“Does it matter? He has to stop!” He whispered frantically, ignoring the unknown gryffindors looking at him like he was the Scum of the Earth. Potter talked to him, and none of them had the balls to do anything in front of him, so he was good. “Would you  _ please _ help me?” 

“Hi, Draco.” 

The voice made him flinch. 

“Go  _ away _ , Longbottom.” 

“I had a very interesting conversation with Pansy.” 

He slapped his forehead. “You’re on a first name basis with the bint. This can’t be good.” 

He finally turned. Longbottom looked infuriatingly handsome. 

“First, she told me I should ask you if you have a sunburn or are you always this hot?” 

Draco shut his eyes hard, hearing while some people around them giggled. And Potter, the traitor,  _ laughed _ . 

“What else did she tell you?” Draco asked, exasperated. He would  _ kill _ Pansy.

“She told me you don’t really understand pickup lines, but that you’d sure understand this.”

_ This _ turned out to be a bouquet of dahlias propped inside a ring with a red ribbon over it all. The ring, he could see, had the Longbottom crest on it. 

And, well, he was clearly not the only one to understand what that gesture meant, because there were a few gasps from purebloods around them. 

“What’s that?” Potter asked, ever the clueless. 

“ _ That _ , dear Potter, is a courtship request.” Pansy walked to them, rolling her eyes at the Chosen One’s clueless look. “Less than a marriage proposal, still serious.”

“How serious?”

“Nobody would dare hitting on any of them without a public announcement of a breakup, or else they would be ostracized.” 

“You  _ told _ your grandmother about me?” Draco could barely find his voice, croaking words as raspy and raw as he felt on the inside, like sandpaper through his heart. 

“I told you she wouldn’t care.” Neville’s smile was blinding. “She wants me to be happy. And I need you for that.” 

Draco’s chest felt too tight for everything it held. 

“If you don’t accept that, I will.” Potter warned him with a playful smile. 

“You are a fool,” Draco stood up and took the flowers from his hands, letting him take the ring from them and slip it onto his trembling finger. He did the same, slipping the Malfoy signet from his finger and letting it adjust to fit Neville’s. Because there was no hiding it anymore. He made his move in the filled Great Hall. The news would probably hit the papers by the following morning. “An absolute fool.”

Neville bent his forehead to touch Draco’s. “Maybe. But you’re my boyfriend now, so…” He chuckled. “I suppose I won.” 

“You didn’t win  _ shit,  _ Longbottom, wait until I-”

“ _ Ahem _ .” Someone cleared their throat behind them. 

Draco turned and frowned when he saw that it was McGonagall. “Professor?”

“Severus Snape’s last wish for me was that I took care of mister Malfoy.” She explained. “And while I do think that you are a nice boy, mister Longbottom, I resent the fact that you did not ask  _ me _ before performing such a public gesture over my protegee.” 

He could see Pansy and Potter exchanging a look that spoke of a confusion Draco himself felt. 

“Oh, but my dad allowed it.” Lovegood turned from the Ravenclaw table, not bothering to stand up. 

“Luna’s dad?” Potter mouthed. 

“We are second cousins, once removed.” Draco explained blandly. “Technically, he  _ would _ be my next of kin.” He paused. “Wait, he  _ allowed _ it?” 

“It was the least he could do.” She said breezily. “After you took such good care of me when I was in your dungeon.” 

“ _ Still _ . Mister Longbottom, my office.” McGonagall left no room for disagreement, marching through them and expecting to be followed. 

Neville shrugged and followed her, looking properly terrified. 

Pansy unceremoniously sat beside Potter on the Gryffindor table, and Draco sat down in front of them, his finger compulsively rubbing the ring around his hand, like he couldn’t quite believe that had happened. 

“So?” Pansy smiled smugly. “You and Longbottom, huh?” 

Draco didn’t want to smile, but it was bigger than him. “Apparently.” He agreed. Life was looking pretty good to him, right then. 

“Neville’s a good guy.” Potter nodded his head in approval.

“Oh, yes, an  _ upstanding _ member of wizarding society.” Her smile grew shark-like. 

“Pansy…” Draco tried to stop her, dread filling his gut with each tooth that her lips uncovered. “Don’t-”

“What is she talking about?” Potter frowned, looking from one to the other. 

“Oh, I don’t think he remembers, darling.”

“Pansy!” He tried again, expression doubtlessly turning horrified. 

Eyes on Draco’s, she bent her head and whispered it in Potter’s ears. 

And, of course, the moron couldn’t keep it together. 

“Neville did  _ what _ ?” His eyes bugged out. “In… in the  _ sex dungeon _ ?” 

He said life was good? Scratch that. 

His friends sucked and his life was horrible and Draco wanted Pansy to  _ fucking die.  _


End file.
